


Stainless Steal

by arysteia



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Furious 7 (2015)
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/pseuds/arysteia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom may just have hit on a way to keep Brian out of trouble...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stainless Steal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



> For dreamlittleyo, for the prompts "Dom is surprised to discover that Brian likes to be held down" and "a Dom that's possessive and protective and terrifyingly intense". Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Loosely inspired by the scene in _Furious 7_ where we discover Brian kept his FBI vest, but otherwise set in a vague AU where the guys have been together for some years by this point.
> 
> Thanks so much to Late Night Antipodean Twitter for seeing me to the finish line, this is one race that wouldn't have been won without you.

Dom gets out of the shower and towels off briskly, blessing whatever genius invented infinite hot water. He’s been wearing the same clothes for three days straight and still isn’t sure he made the right call tossing them in the hamper instead of the garbage. He may yet change his mind, but it’ll keep for tomorrow. Right now he wants to eat, and then he wants to sleep for a week.

“Brian?” he yells, as he walks into the bedroom and rummages in the dresser for clean underwear. “Where are you?”

“In here,” Brian calls from down the hall. “You done? I thought you’d drowned in there.”

Dom follows the sound of his voice to the main bathroom. He’s in boxers and a worn soft t-shirt, skin scrubbed pink and damp hair softly curling on his neck where it’s finally beginning to grow out, and up to his elbows in the sink, scrubbing something with what looks like a toothbrush.

“I hope that’s yours,” Dom says. “Come on, leave it, let’s go.”

“Nah, man,” Brian says, not looking up from his work. “You put them away funky and they reek next time you get them out. I found that one out the hard way.”

Dom frowns. “What is it?” He leans over to look as Brian pulls the dark mass out of the soapy water. It’s the bullet proof vest he was wearing earlier. Now that Dom knows what he’s looking at he can tell what the rectangular plates lying on the countertop must be.

“You planning on a next time?” he asks.

Brian shrugs, and turns around to grin at him. “Never know with you.”

“Yeah,” Dom says, suddenly annoyed. “Finish up. I’m gonna order a pizza.”

He ignores Brian calling after him and stomps back down to the bedroom to finish getting dressed.

When Brian reappears ten minutes later, Dom is sitting on the end of the bed in his pyjama pants, phone in hand, pizza unordered, trying to decide how to tell him that maybe this time when he said “ _one last ride_ ” he actually meant it.

“Where the hell did you have that hidden anyway?” he asks instead, because apparently he’s just determined to be pissy tonight, instead of grateful they’re both alive.

“It wasn’t hidden,” Brian snaps, and yeah, there’s that O’Conner ice; he’s pissed too, for all that he’s quieter about it. “It was in the closet with the rest of my gear. Should I have _left it there_ when I went after the guys with guns?”

“You shouldn’t have _gone after the guys with guns_!” Dom yells. 

Brian stops pacing and stares at him incredulously. “That’s what’s eating you?”

“Of course it is,” Dom says, since seemingly they’re actually doing this. “You almost fell off a cliff, you took on some crazy-ass kung fu ninja by yourself, and you waded into a machine gun battle with a handgun and your pretty little vest, all in three days. What the hell did you think I was talking about?”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Brian says, shaking his head and jabbing his finger at Dom like he’s some perp he’s shaking down. “That’s not fair. You’re the one who needed to be resuscitated. Not me.”

“I was fine,” Dom says dismissively. Waking up on the cold asphalt to Brian screaming and pounding on his chest hadn’t been _pleasant_ exactly, but it’s not the topic of conversation right here. “Now tell me what you meant.”

Brian shrugs. “I don’t know. I forgot to take the patch off the vest before we went out. I always feel weird busting that stuff out around you.”

Dom had barely even noticed when Brian pulled the velcro patch with _FBI_ in mile high yellow letters off the vest and tossed it back into the trunk of the car. He certainly hadn’t remembered it, or _dwelled_ on it like Brian seems to think. He’d had way bigger things on his mind.

“That still bothers you?” he asks.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Brian demands in turn.

Dom laughs. “Me? No. I’ve got you in my bed, I don’t care if you’ve got a stockpile of stolen police property _under_ my bed.”

“It’s not under the bed,” Brian says huffily. “I told you, it’s in the closet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dom says. “Get it out. I want to see what else you’ve got stashed in there for a rainy day.”

“You’re an asshole,” Brian says, but he’s starting to smile.

“I love you too,” Dom says, and Brian snorts and yanks the closet door open, and it’s a joke, but it’s also no joke at all, and they really are going to have to talk about this. But maybe after they’ve both caught up on some sleep and aren’t primed to take each other’s heads off out of misdirected adrenaline.

Brian pulls a nondescript black bag that Dom has always assumed contained gym gear or something equally innocuous out of the back of the closet and tosses it at him. It’s surprisingly heavy, and he just manages to catch it before it hits him in the face. Brian goes back to pacing as he unzips it and upends it on the bed beside him.

“I don’t have any of my LAPD kit,” he says, all nervous energy. “I skipped town too fast the first time to take anything with me. The second time… It didn’t take long to figure out your trial wasn’t going well. I had time to pack. Not much, just what I could fit in the trunk. Personal stuff mostly, and some things I had at home I thought might be useful. I didn’t exactly go through proper exit procedures, but I didn’t go in and _loot_ the place.”

It’s really not much, certainly not to represent _four years_ Brian spent there. A navy windbreaker, FBI on the back in their ubiquitous yellow, a couple of t-shirts, similarly branded, a taser, a pack of zip strips, a pile of building security swipe cards and ID badges bundled together with a rubber band, and the black leather wallet containing Brian’s Special Agent’s badge and ID. He looks so young in the photo, with his brand new grown up haircut, roots freshly dark with all the sun bleached curls shorn off.

Oh. And this is interesting. A set of handcuffs. Dom twirls them round one finger and raises an eyebrow. “What were these supposed to be useful for?”

Brian glares at him. “They were in my pocket, Dom. I had to act like I was actually doing my job those last few days, not set off alarm bells left and right that I was about to spring a known felon for the second time.”

Dom laughs like he hasn’t laughed in far too long. It feels good. “You didn’t _spring_ me the first time, O’Conner, I got away.”

“I _let you_ get away,” Brian corrects him.

Dom shrugs. “I guess they _could_ be useful,” he says, like he’s thinking about it hard. “Next time you try to pull some stupid stunt like today I could cuff you to something till you think twice.”

Brian breathes in sharply and a strange look crosses his face. Oh, this _is_ interesting. Dom was only teasing, but Brian’s going bright red right there in front of him, the curse of his fair colouring leaving him nowhere to hide.

“Would you _like_ that?” Dom asks, standing up, voice gone low betraying his own sudden interest.

“What? No,” Brian says, taking a step backwards.

“I think you would,” Dom insists. “I think you’d _love_ it if I cuffed you to my bed and kept you there.”

“Don’t you dare,” Brian says, but his breath’s coming hard and fast and his pupils are starting to dilate.

Dom stalks towards him, and Brian takes another step back to collide with the dresser. They stand there staring at each other for an extended moment, last chance for Brian to say no and mean it, and then Dom lunges forward. Brian raises a hand instinctively to fend him off, and the cuff snaps shut around his wrist.

“ _Dom_ ,” he says, and his voice is a soft whine.

“Yeah?” Dom asks, leaning in to kiss him.

Brian’s other hand shoots out, palm flat, to hit him in the shoulder, just as his foot circles out to wrap around Dom’s ankle and throw him off balance. It’s a practised move, one Brian’s always been good at, and Dom hits the floor hard, but he doesn’t let go of the other end of the cuff, pulling Brian off his feet and down on top of him.

It knocks the wind out of both of them, and they lie there for a few seconds, gasping, then Brian rears up again and tries to crawl over him to get to his feet. Dom wraps his arms around Brian’s waist and rolls them over so he’s on top, and Brian shoves at him with both hands, which is a mistake since it allows Dom to catch hold of the open end of the cuffs again. He loops the chain around his fingers and yanks Brian’s arm up over his head, holding it down firmly against the floor. Brian’s chest heaves, and his breathing is just a series of short, staccato pants. His thin cotton boxers aren’t concealing much either.

Dom looks him right in the eye, then takes a firm grip on the other wrist too. Brian pulls against his hold, just hard enough to test it, then relaxes. It’s a feint though – as soon as Dom shifts some of his weight off Brian’s lower body his legs come up, lightning fast, to wrap around Dom’s torso and start squeezing. His thighs are like a vise, and Dom can feel his ribs creak, but Brian was too clever by half this time. He’s used this move on Dom before, back when they were fighting for real, in the grim, dark days when he thought Letty was dead and Brian was lying to him yet again.

This time, when Brian rolls back onto his shoulders and Dom manages to get his knees beneath him, he doesn’t drop back down to crush Brian against the floor. Instead he lurches to his feet, Brian still wrapped around him, holding tight to Brian’s forearms. He staggers one, two, three steps backwards, then spins and drops to the mattress. With the grip he still has on the chain of the cuffs it’s easy to get that hand pulled up against the headboard and slotted through the gap in the slats. It’s much harder to manoeuvre the other one up there with Brian pulling against him with all his strength now, but he squeezes Brian’s wrist, hard, till his fingers spasm, and then he pulls it up quickly to slap it against the open cuff which obligingly snaps closed.

The second it clicks shut Brian goes limp underneath him, arms relaxing against the pillows at the top of the bed, legs falling open so Dom can shift more comfortably into the cradle of his pelvis instead of folding him in half like a pretzel. He’s still breathing fast though, and his face is scarlet.

“Hey,” Dom says, when he gets some of his own composure back. “You okay?”

Brian nods.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Brian manages. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Dom says, standing up and stretching to crack his spine. “Get your breath back. And say something if there’s a problem, all right?”

Brian nods again.

Dom grabs the lube out of the nightstand drawer and drops it on the pillow by Brian’s head, then pulls his t-shirt off and shoves his sleep pants down. Brian’s watching him appreciatively, smirking even from his awkward position against the headboard, so Dom puts on a little bit of a show, stroking his cock languidly and acting like he’s in no particular hurry.

Brian breaks first, snapping out, “Get up here, you jackass.”

Dom laughs and drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, grasping Brian’s legs and pulling him down towards him. Brian writhes sinuously and strains to get some kind of grip on the headboard, legs falling open invitingly. Dom leans in and presses his nose to the curve where Brian’s leg meets his body, breathing deep. Brian smells of fading shower soap and fresh sweat and the rising salt of arousal, and Dom licks a broad line from his knee to his hip, then bites him, hard, on the little pad of flesh just above his iliac cut. Brian groans loudly, and presses up into Dom’s teeth.

“Come up here, come on,” he begs, and Dom complies. He’s had about as much teasing as he can take as well. He knees his way onto the bed, and settles between Brian’s open thighs, leaning up to kiss him at last. It’s hot, and wet, and oh so good, like it always is, and then Brian’s feet slide up the sides of his calves, stroking once, twice, and his legs are wrapping around him again, forcing him close, pressing their groins together as Brian arches up, his amazing lower body strength more than enough to compensate for the inability to use his hands.

They rut against each other there for a few minutes, still kissing, then Dom remembers he still has the use of his own hands, shoving Brian’s t-shirt up under his armpits so they can get skin against skin, then pulling down on the waistband of his boxers to free his cock. His skin is burning, about as hot as Dom feels himself, and he’s so hard, and leaking; they both are, trapped between the planes of their stomachs. Dom takes them both in one big hand, stroking firmly from base to tip, pushing Brian’s boxers down further with the other. Brian helpfully raises himself off the bed to get them past his ass, then kicks them off.

Dom gropes for the lube and flips it open, letting go of Brian’s cock to a moan of complaint and coating his fingers, then works his way down, fingers skimming behind Brian’s balls, stroking the fragile skin there before slipping further back and carefully pushing inside. Brian breathes out sharply, trapped hands clenching and flexing, cuffs scraping against the wood of the headboard – it’s going to need a sand when they’re done – and moves into it, relaxing, opening around Dom’s fingers. He’s slick, and hot, and tight, and Dom can’t wait any more, he takes his cock in his hand and presses it against Brian’s hole, breathes deep, and pushes in.

He knows from long experience just how hard he can push, how much Brian can take, and he doesn’t hold anything back, shoving his way inside until his balls are snug against Brian’s ass, holding him firmly in place with an arm around his waist and a hand on his shoulder, thrusting hard into his willing body. Brian arches his back and pulls his legs up, knees stroking up Dom’s sides, thighs clamping around his waist, clenching with each new thrust. He shoves back hard into every one, and his litany of grunts and moans is like filthy music, his breath coming in hot wet gusts against Dom’s face.

Dom shifts the hand he has on Brian’s shoulder to the side of his face, stroking his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, sweeping through the sweat soaked hair at his temple, and leans down to kiss him once more, before shifting his hand down to stroke his dripping cock in time with his thrusts inside his body. Brian gasps, and moans, and his whole body shudders, and then he’s coming, cock pulsing in Dom’s hand, soaking his fingers, and clamping down hard around Dom’s cock.

Dom rides out the tremors, pressing a kiss to each of Brian’s eyelids as his eyes drift shut, and manages another three, four thrusts, shorter, choppy now, rhythm faltering, and then he’s coming too, collapsing onto Brian’s sweat and come smeared stomach, barely remembering to take some of the weight off before his own eyes close.

He comes back to himself a few moments later, to Brian squirming uncomfortably beneath him, and kisses him again in apology before rolling off to lie on his back beside him.

“You going to let me go?” Brian asks, voice hoarse and still a little shaky.

“In a minute,” Dom says. He takes a deep breath and stares at a crack in the ceiling that needs plastering. It’s easier than looking at Brian. “I meant what I said,” he says at last. “About you being more careful.”

“I know,” Brian says quietly. “But it goes both ways. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” Dom rolls back onto his side and strokes a hand down Brian’s chest, settles it on his waist and holds him lightly. “I think maybe next time Hobbs calls I’m going to tell him we’re retired.”

Brian laughs, and it’s Dom’s favourite sound in the world, better even than the roar of a finely tuned Hemi engine. “I guess we’ll have to get our thrills other ways,” he says, like the brat that he is.

“I’ll think of something,” Dom agrees, starting to drift again.

“Hey, Dom,” Brian says suddenly, struggling to sit up, cuffs jangling and scraping on the headboard frame. “Did you check if the keys to these cuffs were in that bag somewhere?”

Dom stifles a snort. He knows exactly where the keys are, but sometimes it’s good to keep Brian on his toes. At least retirement will never be dull.


End file.
